


Scars Unveiled

by acefrodo



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Background Leliana/Female Amell, Background Zevran/Female Tabris, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acefrodo/pseuds/acefrodo
Summary: Falling out of a breach in the veil was one thing. Waking up with a mark on her hand that was supposedly the only thing that would save Thedas was another. Being sucked into a portal and spit out during the Blight? Aleena was starting to think maybe she should have stayed in the Free Marches.AN AU where instead of being sent forward in time, Dorian and the Herald were sent back to the Fifth Blight.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Original Female Character(s), Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

He was supposed to keep her safe.

So many thoughts raced through his mind, but the one that seemed to be winning the fight for dominance was the thought that he should have fought harder. He should have gone instead. 

It should have been him.

But it wasn’t, and instead he was sitting on the floor of a dungeon, the thick rope that bound his hands in front of him chafing against his wrists whenever he moved, and she lay unconscious a few meters away, separated from him by iron bars, a harsh green glow illuminating her face.

It should have been him.

* * *

“Remind me to never get on another ship again,” Aleena groaned. She slipped her arm through Farryn’s and led him to the edges of the road to avoid having to weave in and out of the crowd as much as they could.

It took them a week to get from the shores of the Free Marches to Ferelden. Denerim welcomed them the same as any city did, with a large crowd of people making much more noise than should have been necessary and the stench of sweat drifting around them.

“So would now be a bad time to remind you we’ll still need another ship to get back?” Farryn smiled when Aleena wrinkled her nose.

“Can we please go through Kirkwall this time? I’d rather risk some rogue Templars than spend that much time on the water ever again.” Aleena pulled Farryn to the side as she spoke, walking in a large arc around a group of men, who were all swinging bottles in their hands as they spoke loudly.

Farryn swallowed a lump of anxiety. “Let’s see how these peace talks go first,” he grimaced.

“ _Maybe_ , we’ll get lucky,” Aleena said, “and the Conclave will be a success and there’ll be peace throughout all of Thedas. And then, our clan can meet us here, and we’ll never have to go on another boat again.”

Farryn chuckled, then he paused suddenly, pulling Aleena to a stop. “Did you see that?” He asked, pointing in the air above them.

“See what?” Aleena scrunched her brow.

“Oh, no nevermind,” Farryn said, “I thought I just saw your sense of reality flying away.”

Aleena elbowed him in his side. “At least let me live with my delusions until we get out of the city.”

* * *

“You said your name is Farryn, yes?” One of the women asked.

Farryn nodded, the small movement bringing him back to reality. He couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes from Aleena’s body. An elven man was kneeling beside her, hands glowing with magic as he knelt close to examine her hand. She looked so . . . weak. Such a far cry from how Farryn was used to seeing her. Every moment he spent staring at her, the more he felt his heart breaking, but part of him was convinced that she would disappear the moment he looked away. He could see the two women in the corners of his vision. The one who had spoken was kneeling in front of him, just far enough away that her face was mostly cast in shadows by the hood she wore. Sister Nightingale, he remembered one of the soldiers calling her. The other woman didn’t seem to be trying to hide her anger at all as she paced back and forth across the small dungeon, one hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword.

“Tell me Farryn,” Sister Nightingale said, “Why did you and your friend come to the Conclave?”

“We came on behalf of our clan,” he answered with a hoarse voice.

“Our records don’t show any Dalish clans were in attendance,” the woman said. 

“We didn’t come in any … official capacity.” He tried not to stumble over his words, but his mind was racing and the words seemed to fight themselves on their way out of his mouth. “The Mage-Templar war affects all of us,” he clarified, “just as the Divine’s decision would affect us. We wanted to hear about the Conclave from our own people, rather than risk being surprised by the result later.” His heart hammered as he spoke, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. Should he be saying this? The last thing he wanted was to put more people he loved in danger. He yearned for these women to believe him, to know that his people meant no harm, that Aleena was innocent in all this. He wanted more than anything to believe the woman’s gentle voice, to be lulled into the sense of comfort and trust he imagined she was trying to create, but the ropes cutting into his wrists anchored him to reality.

The other woman stopped pacing, moving to stand in front of him with her arms crossed. “Did you know about her plans?” She demanded.

“What plans?” Farryn asked.

The woman huffed. “Your friend’s plan to blow up the Temple and kill everyone inside.”

Farryn felt his heart pound, heat starting to rise up his neck in anger. “My _friend_ is innocent.” He finally tore his gaze from Aleena to lock his eyes on the woman standing above him. The woman’s eyes were narrowed, her jaw clenched. Farryn noticed the symbol on her armor, noting that it wasn’t the Templar’s sword as he had originally thought. “She had no hand in this. Neither of us did.”

“Do you blame us for our suspicions?” the Nightingale asked. “The Conclave is destroyed in what can only be a magical explosion, and a mage is found in the center of it as the only survivor.”

“If that was made by magic,” Farryn said, stepping carefully over his words so as not to give these women anything to latch onto, “I have no idea what it was. Aleena couldn’t do anything like that. She’s a _healer_ ,” Farryn stressed. “She wouldn’t.”

“So was the mage who destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall,” the other woman said. She looked ready to speak again when Sister Nightingale stepped in.

“If she had planned this, would she have told you?” she asked. “Why is it you were not together in the Temple?”

Farryn resisted the urge to close his eyes, to break eye contact. He was suddenly very aware of his every movement, anything that could show weakness.

He grit his teeth, and said, “I don’t like crowds.”

The woman above him scoffed.

* * *

“You don’t have to come with me, you know,” Aleena’s hand was warm on his. They were outside the main village of Haven, standing near the trees and watching as the crowd making the trek to the Temple of Sacred Ashes grew. Farryn squeezed her hand back, and forced a smile on his face.

“If I stay, who’ll be there to stop you from doing anything rash?” He said, even as his heart began to hammer in his chest at the thought of joining the crowd.

“What am I going to do? Run up and steal the stage from the Divine while shooting fireworks from my hands?” Aleena laughed, then looked him in the eyes as her voice took a more serious tone. “I can take care of myself, Farryn. There’s going to be a lot of people there, and I can blend in easy enough.”

“I just don’t like the thought of you being by yourself in the middle of all those Templars,” Farryn confessed.

“I don’t think they’ll do anything with the Divine here,” Aleena shook her head, then after a pause, nodded over his shoulder. “See those soldiers over there?”

Farryn followed her gaze to a patch of tents just outside the gates to the village. There stood a small group of men, shields on their backs and swords at their sides, talking to each other as they watched the people coming in and out of the gates.

“They aren’t Templars,” Farryn noted, looking over their plain armor that lacked any emblem that would identify them as such.

“Exactly,” Aleena said, “so who are they working for?”

“I assume the Divine,” Farryn said.

“Why aren’t they wearing anything that would relate to the Chantry though?” Aleena asked. “It’s not exactly like them to be subtle. So, what do you say to scouting out the village and seeing what you can find out from the people here, while I go scout out the Temple.”

Farryn was quiet for a moment, weighing her words in his mind. Eventually, the anxiety in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the crowd in the Temple won.

“Just be careful,” he said.

“Always am,” Aleena replied with a smile. She gave his hand one last squeeze before turning on her heel, pulling her hood back over her head as she joined the crowd.

* * *

He could hardly believe it when Sister Nightingale had cut the ropes binding his wrists. The other woman protested at first, but for some reason, Sister Nightingale seemed convinced, at least of his innocence, if not Aleena’s. Maybe she believed that he wouldn’t have been helping fight the demons if he was responsible, or perhaps she had seen just how much pain was written across his face when he watched Aleena’s unconscious body seize in pain. A soldier escorted him out of the Chantry, and as he stepped outside, blinking in the sudden light, he couldn’t stop the image of Aleena’s face illuminated by a green light coming to his mind each time he closed his eyes.

Another day passed, and Farryn did the only thing he could manage, and fought. He joined the others in the valley. Some were soldiers that he had seen in the village, some looked to be guards that had accompanied the nobles to the Conclave, and others were just people who knew how to use a sword and couldn’t stand by while this nightmare rained down on them all.

It seemed most of those in the valley hadn’t heard much about the lone survivor of the Conclave. Some might have heard the rumors in passing, but fortunately for Farryn, few here had heard that he knew the survivor and had been a suspect himself. As far as anyone in the valley was concerned, he was able and willing to fight, and that was all the mattered. It didn’t matter who the arrows came from, as long as they were directed at the demons. 

Unfortunately, this anonymity didn’t last long. Two more days passed and news and rumors spread fast through the village and makeshift camps. They whispered among themselves, and even when he wasn’t close enough to hear, he still knew what they were saying. That there was only one survivor, she was the prime suspect, and closely associated with her.

It was when he was making elfroot potions in one of the camps, that the whispers stopped pretending to be subtle. He was minding his own business, focusing on his work and thinking how glad he was that while he was no healer, he had still been taught to make even the most simple of potions of poultices, when a broken shield was thrown to the ground a bit too close to him to have been an accident.

“The Seeker’s lost her mind, the knife ear should be locked up with the other one,” a voice said, loud enough for anyone on their side of the camp to hear.

Farryn felt his chest burn and his jaw clench, but he refused to look up. He wouldn’t give this shem the satisfaction of a reaction. He focused on keeping his hands moving, going through the motions of crafting the potion. He needed to focus. He needed to stop his hands from shaking. He needed to --

“Ignore them,” a low voice came from his side, and for the first time since he started working, he allowed himself to look up. A dwarven woman kneeled beside him, adorned in heavy battle-scarred armor. She had her attention on the human who had spoken, and though she wore her helm, he could still see the steely glare she leveled at the man. Farryn almost smirked when he watched the man wearily walk away under the force of her glare.

The Dwarf grinned. She placed a piece of cloth in front of him, unwrapping it to reveal a few pieces of jerky.

“Name’s Cadash. Have you eaten?” She asked as she took a piece for herself. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Farryn,” he said in lieu of an answer. He refocused on his work in front of him, leaving the jerky untouched. “Thanks for that.”

“Any time,” she said as she sat down fully, her armor clinking as she did so. “Tensions are high, but that doesn’t mean you should take the brunt of their anger.”

Farryn was quiet for a moment, corking his last flask and setting it aside. He looked at her and meant to ask about the fighting outside the camp, or if she needed help with anything. Instead, he said, “So you don’t think I …” His voice faded and he gestured vaguely at the sky.

“What? That you helped make a giant magic hole in the sky?” He was surprised when she chuckled. “Look, I don’t know what to think anymore, but if there’s one thing I’m at least a little certain on, it’s that I don’t think you’re to blame for _that_.” She said with a similar gesture at the green glow above them.

“Why?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Maybe I’m a good judge of character,” she winked at him from beneath her helm, “or maybe I just find it hard to believe that you would cause a deadly explosion and then stick around to help everyone who wasn’t caught in it.” She paused and shrugged before continuing, “Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong and you’re actually an evil mastermind, but at least you’re helping kill the demons falling out of that sodding thing in the meantime.”

“She didn’t do it either. The survivor they found.” Farryn clarified. He could feel the thread of desperation seeping through him again, for the first time since he had tried to convince the leaders of the village of Aleena’s innocence. “I don’t know what happened, but she didn’t do it.”

Cadash looked at him, and for the first time in two days, he heard the words, “I believe you.” She pushed herself up from the ground, and held a hand out to him. “Now, Farryn. What do you say you eat that jerky and then we go kick some more demon ass.”

* * *

It was at some point between demon number 32 and number 40 that Farryn felt the shift in the air. Cadash had taken to calling out her kills as she struck the final blow, and Farryn had joined in, allowing himself to focus entirely on the numbers and finding it a welcome distraction, as though this were simply a competition and not life or death. They fought well together, this dwarf charging through the battlefield with a weapon that at first glance looked much too big for her to possibly wield and this elf firing arrows from higher ground at anything that dared get too close to his new-found companion.

Night had fallen, and he couldn’t tell if he was imagining it, if the pain in his side from the creature that had clawed at him was starting to get to him or if the demons were really starting to fight more frantically than before. The breach in the sky above almost looked as though it were pulsing, and the air was thick all around them.

An arrow struck number 41, and a moment later, thunder echoed through the mountain. Farryn felt his eyes go to the breach in the sky, almost instinctively. It did pulse this time, growing brighter for just a moment. A gust of wind blew over them and even the demons looked up.

Something had changed.

* * *

It had been a total of six days since he had last seen Aleena awake, and the first thing he heard her say were the words, “You look terrible.”

Farryn jumped in surprise at the sudden sound, the book he had been reading tumbling from his hands. He looked up from where he was sitting on the floor to the bed where Aleena lay.

“Still,” Aleena spoke, her voice hoarse from disuse, “You’re a better sight to wake up to than a dungeon.”

Farryn stood and was at her side in a moment, a hand under her arm to help her as she started to sit up.

“I don’t suppose you’d humor me and tell me that was all a strange dream and everything is actually completely normal outside those doors?”

“What happened to not doing anything rash?” Farryn asked. His brow was furrowed, but a ghost of a smile still crossed his lips.

“You know, I like to think that I was completely rational and had absolutely nothing to do with what happened.”

“You really don’t remember anything?” Farryn asked as he sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

“I remember . . . some things, but it’s like trying to remember a dream you had years ago. I remember running. Something was chasing me, and I remember seeing a woman. And the next thing I remember, I’m waking up in a dungeon with this,” She motioned to her hand.

Farryn watched as the green light pulsed softly through the center of her palm. He reached his hand over and gently took her hand in both of his, cradling it so the palm remained open to the air.

“Does it hurt?”

Aleena was quiet for a moment as she considered.

“Yeah,” she said as she stretched her fingers as if to test something, “It’s more like a dull ache though, like an old wound that still flares up sometimes. It’s more uncomfortable than anything.” She turned her palm over so their hands were intertwined. “Did they say anything? About this?” she asked. “That man … Solas? He said the magic was tied to the Breach somehow, but no one seemed to know much beyond that.”

“That’s about all they told me,” Farryn sighed. “There is something you should know though.”

“Tell me the good news first please,” Aleena groaned as she settled back against the pillows. “There has to be some good news, right? I mean, we’re in a cabin with a bed and pillows and a fire, so I’m assuming I’m not a prisoner anymore? Unless this is the Chantry’s way of trying to make me feel comfortable so I’m more likely to admit to whatever devious plot they think I had, but that doesn’t really sound like them.”

“Good news,” Farryn agreed, “is that neither of us are prisoners, and they don’t think you’re guilty anymore. In fact, most of them are actually … quite pleased with you.”

“Bit of a difference from before,” Aleena snorted. “Okay, get the bad news over with then.”

Farryn was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “The Breach is still there. It’s not growing anymore, but it’s still there, and from what I’ve heard, there’s smaller rifts still popping up.”

Aleena stared at their linked hands, and Farryn watched her chew on her lip as she thought. “And they still need me because this thing in my hand is the only thing that can help.” She closed her eyes for a moment before looking up at Farryn. Whatever she saw written across his face made her raise her eyebrows. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Well,” Farryn drew out the word as he thought of a way to phrase his next sentence, “there is one small thing. How do you feel about people calling you the Herald of Andraste?”

Somehow, Aleena raised her eyebrows even farther. “You’re joking.”

Farryn made an apologetic face as he shrugged.

“Andraste?” Aleena asked. “Oh, leave it to the Chantry - they know I’m Dalish right?” She raised her other hand to feel around her ears and face. “Yeah, still pointed ears. Is my vallaslin still there, or did that magically disappear along with their senses? Do they truly think their god would send a Dalish elf to be her Herald?”

“Well, some of them seem pretty convinced,” Farryn shrugged. “And technically, Andraste isn’t their god. She’s the …” he tilted his head as he thought, “the wife of their god?”

Aleena nudged him with her knee. “My point stands.”

“When you’re ready,” Farryn said, “the Seeker wants to see you. She said to bring you over as soon as you woke up, but I figure we’ve got some time. As long as no one barges in, no one will be the wiser.”

“Right, let me just figure out what a Herald of Andraste sounds like first,” Aleena rolled her eyes. A small smile crossed her lips when her eyes met his, but slid away a moment later. Farryn could almost see the thought swirling through her head.

“Hey,” he said, “whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. You and me, like always.”

“You and me.” Aleena smiled and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

It had been almost a month since Aleena had awoken in that cabin with Farryn. In that time, she’d travelled all over the Hinterlands, helped some refugees, gone to Val Royeaux and back, watched a templar deck a Revered Mother, and closed a handful of rifts. A month, and some of this still didn’t feel real. Especially where the mark on her hand was concerned.

She’d been honest with Farryn before. The presence of the magic in her hand was strange, but it didn’t hurt. It was a bit uncomfortable at times, mostly when she started to think about it for too long, but it wasn’t nearly as unnerving as the attention she received wherever she went.

Somehow, the negative attention with the sneers and distrustful glances she had received when she first emerged from the cells beneath the Chantry were almost easier to deal with. It was something she was used to, a familiar feeling she had learned to navigate years ago whenever she would trade with humans. Though some of the humans were indifferent towards her and others in her clan, Aleena realized at a young age that she would garner stares whenever she would venture into human settlements, rare as those occasions may have been. At best, the people in these settlements would stare, only occasionally trying to hide their curiosity. Most of the time, however, the shems would watch her closely, holding their coin purses tighter with a sneer on their lips. 

To say that the way they were treating her was a bit different would be an understatement. While she still found that she couldn’t go far without feeling eyes on her, the looks she received were different than those she was used to. Although in Val Royeaux, there were still plenty of glares and uncertain eyes that watched her closely (mostly by those in Chantry robes and templar armor), most other places she was met with wide eyes and awed looks. Wherever she went in Haven especially, she noticed people stopping what they were doing and gawking at her as she passed, regardless of whatever conversation or activity they were in the middle of.

It was unnerving to say the least.

Her traveling companions helped, at least, to keep her mind off this.

In the month since the Inquisition had officially been reformed, they’d gathered quite the curious bunch. Varric had called them a ragtag group once, and Aleena was quick to agree.

First, there was Varric, a roguish dwarf who not only had aim on his crossbow that could rival Farryn’s (there’d been several contests during their downtime in the Hinterlands), but also made for possibly the best conversationalist on the road. She’d also learned that he was a writer. He’d lent Aleena a copy of his book that told the story of the Champion of Kirkwall, who was apparently a close personal friend of his. By the time they left Val Royeaux, Aleena was nearly finished with it, and she still wasn’t sure how to ask how truthful the book was.

Then there was Cassandra of course, one of the first people she had seen when she’d woken up in Haven’s cells. Aleena learned that she was not only the Right Hand of the Divine, but also a Seeker, which Varric described as “kind of like a templar, but with more self-importance”. This was only slightly out of earshot of Cassandra, so Aleena wasn’t sure if this was true or just said to annoy the Seeker. While the woman still had a rough exterior, she had warmed up to Aleena significantly compared to the first time they met, though Aleena had quickly realized that maybe talking to her while she was training wasn’t the best idea.

There was also Solas, an elven mage who knew more about the Fade than anyone she’d ever met. Talking to him made for very interesting conversations about magic. She realized fairly early on, however, that he didn’t hesitate to share his opinion regardless of the topic, and had managed to insult her several times within their first conversation. After talking to him more, she was mostly sure this was accidental, though she still avoided certain topics with him to avoid what felt like a lecture. Still, she was grateful for his presence, as he had been the one to stabilize the magic in her hand. Without him, Aleena might not have been there to listen to Cassandra and Varric bicker on the road. 

More recently, they’d recruited a couple more members to the Inquisition while in Val Royeaux. The first was Sera, a young elven woman who’d insisted several times in their first few conversations that she wasn’t “elfy like other elves”. Aleena still wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, or if she should have taken insult to that. Despite Sera’s hesitance around mages and other elves, she certainly made for an interesting travelling companion. As long as they stayed away from the topics of magic or elves, conversations with her were like a breath of fresh air with how ridiculous they were. The second was Vivienne, an incredibly elegant woman who’d been an enchanter of the Orlesian Court, a position Aleena hadn’t known existed until they met. She also hadn’t known there were mages who were incredibly pro-Circle until her conversations with Vivienne, a fact that still surprised her. If she was being honest, Aleena wasn’t entirely sure what to think of her, especially after Varric and Cassandra had explained the Orlesian’s obsession with their “Game”. She found that Vivienne was similar to Solas in a way: nice in some conversations, and a bit condescending in others.

Since their first attempt to close the Breach, Aleena hadn’t spent much time in Haven, especially compared to the amount of time they spent on the road. Half of her time in the village had either been spent with Varric around the campfire he seemed to have claimed or escaping into the trees that surrounded Haven to gather elfroot with Farryn. The other half was spent in meetings with Cassandra, Josephine (the Inquisition’s diplomat who Aleena was a little intimidated by), Leliana (their spymaster who Aleena was definitely intimidated by), and Cullen (the former templar and now Commander of the Inquisition's forces, who Aleena spent half of the meetings disagreeing with).

“I still think we should try to go to the Templars. I’m certain we can make them see reason.”

Only an hour after they’d returned from Val Royeaux and Aleena was gathered around the table in their makeshift war room, listening to the same argument she’d heard a dozen times before. Whatever patience she’d managed to gather in previous meetings was quickly evaporating as she remembered their experience in the Orlesian capital. Between the Chantry’s continued accusations and calls for her arrest and the brief encounter she’d had with the Lord Seeker, topped off by her seasickness on both trips, she wasn’t sure she had any patience left. 

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and wondered, not for the first time, if the heads of the Inquisition were beginning to regret letting her make the decisions.

“In case you’ve forgotten, Commander,” Aleena said, leaning down and placing her hands on the table before her. “The Templars want nothing to do with us. The mages, however, are not only willing to listen, but they’ve extended the invitation themselves.”

“The mages are desperate,” Cullen said.

“And the templars are any better?” Aleena straightened, crossing her arms over her chest.

Farryn stepped forward, placing himself between Aleena and Cullen at the table. “You didn’t see them in Val Royeaux,” he reminded Cullen. “The templars made it very clear what they think of the Inquisition. Besides, our priority here is to close the Breach, and you’ve all agreed that either group would be viable allies in doing so. Can we really afford to spend more time chasing after the Order’s attention when we’ve already received an invitation to talk to the mages?”

Not for the first time, Aleena was infinitely glad she’d argued for Farryn to be present at the War Council meetings.

“He has a point, Commander,” Leliana cut in, the ghost of a smirk across her face.

“So it’s settled then?” Aleena said, “We leave for Redcliffe at first light?”

Josephine hummed across the table, making a note on her clipboard. “I will make the necessary preparations, Your Worship.”

Aleena fought a grimace at the title, but she nodded and breathed a small sigh of relief when Josephine called the meeting adjourned. She gathered up her now cold cup of tea that she’d forgotten about just after the meeting started and had just turned for the door when Leliana called her back.

“Herald, a word?” Leliana said. Aleena waved for Farryn to leave without her and turned back to lean against the table.

“Everything all right?” Aleena asked.

“That depends on the moment,” Leliana gave her a half smile. “Since you will be returning to the Hinterlands, I was hoping you could look into something for me. You see, several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t even consider the idea they’re involved in all this, but the timing is … curious.”

“Is it possible they could be involved in this?” Aleena raised her eyebrows, lifting her mug halfway to her lips before she remembered that it was cold and lowered back down as casually as she could. She held in between her hands and sent out a small spell to heat it again.

“I would like to say no, but given all that has happened …” Leliana sighed. “The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I can not ignore it. Two days ago, my agents heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. I am hoping he can at least put my mind at ease.”

Aleena nodded. “We’ll find him.”

“Thank you, Herald.” Leliana smiled. She gathered her reports, and just before she reached out to open the door, Aleena called out to her.

“Leliana?” The spymaster turned with an eyebrow raised in question. “Please just call me Aleena. Or Lavellan, though that might get a bit confusing with Farryn.”

The corners of Leliana’s mouth raised in a small smile, and considering one of their first real conversations had consisted of Leliana demanding answers from Andraste’s supposed Herald, Aleena took this as a victory. “Thank you, Aleena.”

* * *

“What are the odds this is the last time we’ll have to be here for a while?” Aleena asked. They’d just led their horses into the outskirts of the Hinterlands, the trees starting to thin to make way for scattered farmland. It wasn’t that she disliked the area, exactly. It was certainly a better sight than Val Royeaux had been. She could just do without so many trips through the Frostbacks to Haven, just to turn back around and find herself in the same place she’d just been.

There were also the bears. Creators, there were so many bears.

“Depends on how many farmers you agree to help or how many cults we run into this time.” Varric called out from behind her.

“In my defense, we happened to find that druffalo while we were looking for those wolves, and it didn’t take that long to lead it back.”

“Not that long?” She could practically hear Varric’s smirk from just his voice.

“I never knew druffalo could walk so slowly,” Cassandra added.

“Alright, no more looking for druffalo,” Aleena conceded.

“Did Leliana find out anything else about this Warden we’re looking for?” Farryn asked from the front of their party.

Aleena shook her head, then called out as she realized Farryn couldn’t see her. “Just that he was last spotted near the Crossroads, and that he seems to be training farmers and refugees.” She paused, ducking under a low hanging branch and urging her horse forward. “Is that typical for Grey Wardens? To be training other people?”

“Not usually,” Varric replied, “but who knows. It’s been 10 years since there was a Blight, maybe they got bored.”

“What I don’t get,” Farryn called back to them, “is why they’ve disappeared all over Ferelden and Orlais, except for this one man.”

“Well, if there’s one thing Grey Wardens are good at, other than killing darkspawn, it’s being mysterious,” Varric said, “Between us, I think they try too hard with that sometimes.”

“Do you know many Grey Wardens?” Aleena asked.

“A few,” Varric said, “Hawke’s brother, and I had a friend back in Kirkwall who used to be one. And then there’s the King of Ferelden, does he still count?”

“You’ve met King Alistair?” Aleena pulled her horse back until she and Varric were side by side.

“Yeah, a few times,” Varric chuckled, “We helped each other out a while back. Good man. Different from what you’d expect from a king, but not in a bad way.”

Cassandra glanced back at them. “When did you meet the King of Ferelden?”

Varric sighed dramatically. “Ah, that information’s a bit above your station, Seeker.”

And then, before Cassandra could respond and another argument could start, Aleena blurted out the first thing she thought of. “Did you ever meet the Hero of Ferelden?”

Varric looked over at her. “Can’t say I ever did. I was in Kirkwall during the Blight, but I have a friend who did. She seemed to like her, which is a lot coming from her.”

“I just thought that if anyone had met her, it would’ve been you.” Aleena smiled, “You seem to have met everyone else.”

Varric laughed. “Hey, did I ever tell you of the time Hawke and I met Duke Prosper?”

* * *

Dorian wondered if the south would ever run out of ways to surprise him.

He knew about the Breach, of course, as well as the demons that seemed to be falling from the sky. That was the whole reason he made the journey to Fereldan in the first place. That and Alexius.

Memories flooded before his eyes. Late nights spent discussing magic that had previously only been theoretical. Countless hours pouring over texts. The pride he felt when they made a breakthrough. The confidence he had that what they were doing was right.

And this was what they had to show for it.

A fist closed around his heart at the thought of his former mentor. Best not to think of that at the moment. Best to shove all those thoughts back down where he couldn’t reach them.

He was good at that.

There were more pressing issues that required his attention anyway.

Like the rift that had just opened in the middle of the Chantry he’d spent the last few hours hiding in. Just one of the few surprises the south had in store for him.

With a curse, Dorian made a grab for his staff, unleashing a blast of lightning at the nearest terror as soon as he had a proper grip. He scanned the area as best he could while focusing on directing his bolts of magic toward their targets. Two terrors to the left. A bolt of energy sent to the shade in front of him. Two wraiths to the right. And there, in the corner of the Chantry, a fuzzy glow that was different from the rest of the fade energy being brought in from the rift. Dorian might have missed it entirely had he not looked over just as one of the demons stepped into it. It was still moving, the lesser terror crouching and reaching for the ground, but it was slower than it’s brethren, much slower than it should have been moving.

A temporal distortion, Dorian realized as he placed a barrier around with one hand and swung his staff around with the other, directing a chain of lightning at one of the shades. A temporal distortion tied to the rift.

Oh, Alexius, what have you done?

The thought had barely finished forming in his mind when the doors to the Chantry opened. Dorian swiped his staff through the air, hitting the shade that had been nearest him with enough magic that it finally fell. He spared a glance toward the door, to the five figures running in, and grinned.

“Good! You’re finally here!” he said, eyes darting between the figures in the group until his attention landed on the one with the glowing hand. “Now, help me close this, would you?”

The group had already sprung into action before he finished speaking. They seemed to be well-practiced, he had to give them that. As the two warriors rushed forward, swords drawn and shields raised, the two archers began to fire their arrows while sidestepping to create a wider sphere around the rift and the demons. And between them, the one they were calling the Herald, effortlessly twirling her staff and shooting icy blasts at the demons.

As Dorian went back to work directing his bolts of magic toward the remaining demons, he let his mind wander back to the Herald. Yet another surprise, he realized, for what the people seemed to have forgotten when spreading the news across Thedas, was that Andraste’s Chosen was a mage, as well as a Dalish elf.

Oh how he wishes he could have seen the faces of the Chantry officials trying to explain that.

With the help of five others, they were able to make quick work of the demons. Not long after they joined the fight, the demons were scattering into dust and slime on the floor and the Herald was stepping forward with her hand raised, a bolt of energy matching that of the rift flowing between her hand and the rift. With a low boom, the rift closed, leaving a beat of echoing silence in its stead.

“Fascinating,” Dorian broke the silence. “How does that work exactly?” The others turned to look at him, but when the only response was raised eyebrows and the sound of a sword being sheathed, he continued with a laugh, “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closed.”

Now that the chaos had subsided for the moment, Dorian was able to get a closer look at the Herald. Her hair was pulled back into a braid that seemed to have gotten looser throughout the day. Dark brown locks fell into her face, which was framed by Dalish tattoos nearly the same color of light brown as her eyes. Dorian wondered absently just how true all the inevitable future paintings and statues would be to her likeness.

“More or less,” the Herald said. She shook out her hand a few times as if it were wet and she was trying to dry it. She turned to look at one of the archers, and Dorian followed her gaze to see a dwarf lifting not a regular bow, but a large crossbow onto his back. “Maybe we should make a new rule to not speculate about how easy something’s going to be for now on?”

“Agreed,” the other archer called out. He’d been walking around to grab a few arrows from the ground, before stuffing them back in his quiver and moving to stand next to the Herald. Dorian noted he was the only other elf in the group, with different tattoos than the Herald, but with the same hair. A brother, perhaps?

The only other humans were the two warriors, and he took note that only one of them, the man with a rather large beard, had sheathed their blade. The woman moved to stand on the other side of the Herald, with her sword still drawn and looking at him with a distrustful glare. 

Given what they knew so far, he couldn’t say he blamed her.

“Speaking of rifts,” the other archer pointed out. Dorian looked over to the dwarf that had spoken and watched as he heaved not a regular bow, but a large crossbow onto his back. “That’s the second weird one today.”

“You say that as if the rest of them are normal,” The male elf laughed. Dorian pointedly tried not to think about how nice his laugh sounded.

Just another thought to bury until later.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix: My father's joined a cult.  
> Aleena: *looks into the camera*
> 
> Oh man this chapter took FOREVER to write. For context, I've been going back and forth with whether I wanted to start from scratch and just start as close to the action (aka time travel) as possible, but I finally decided against it. Mostly because I want to take a little bit of time to introduce the characters and let them interact with each other before 2 of them disappear lol. I also wasn't planning on switching from Aleena to Dorian's POV mid-chapter, but that was the only way I could get this written, and I actually like how it turned out!
> 
> I'd love to hear what you guys think! (Also if anyone is looking for a beta reader for their fics, or would like to be one for this fic, please let me know!)
> 
> Next chapter: Dorian and Aleena bond over feeling like outsiders, Aleena and Leliana have a heart to heart and talk about the Hero of Ferelden, and a plan is made to take back Redcliffe!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading! This is something I've been working on for a while now and I'm super excited to share it! Let me know what you think! My tumblr's acefrodo if you ever want to yell about Dragon Age with someone!


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